


The Magic of Things Big and Small

by deli (deliciousirony)



Series: Dean Cas (Reverse) Big Bangs & Challenges [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, DCBB 2018, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Fluff, Gods and Goddesses, M/M, Magic, Maybe - Freeform, Summer, an overabundance of blushing, brief joking discussion of safe words, but lots of fluff!, lake, not enemies to friends to lovers and no pining either (just FYI to avoid disappointment) ;P, small town, somewhat canon AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/deli
Summary: According to the tourist guide for St. Mary’s Harbour, the quaint little town nestled between the mountains boasts a magical lake with an island where the local goddess resides. Dean is the High Priest of the island's temple (or priest, as Dean likes to point out, since you can't really be a High Priest if you're the only priest) and is rather unhappy with the recent influx of tourists.When Sam introduces Dean to Castiel Novak, the town’s new director of the tourist board, Dean is immediately smitten, despite his initial reservations. But when Castiel congratulates Dean on the fantastic CGI effects in the town’s infomercial and highlights reel, Dean doesn’t quite know what to tell him.





	1. The Lake

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a wild journey. I was originally writing a completely different thing - only the writing wasn't happening. I really wanted to tell the story, but it apparently didn't want to be told (excuses, excuses, I know ;P). I was already considering dropping - and given that drafts were due in two weeks and I was far far FAR from ANYWHERE near anything I could submit, it looked like there wasn't really another option but to drop.
> 
> At that time I was on holiday and I visited a tiny town nestled between huge mountains, right next to a surreally blue lake, with a little island in the middle and a church on top. It was not called St. Mary's Harbour, but it is a real place. We took the boat to the island and when I was huffing and puffing up the staircase and then looking over the lake on top, I suddenly knew that there was a story here and that this was the story I wanted to tell. (Btw, it's the local custom that the groom has to carry the bride up the stairs to the church - frankly, if I were the carriee, I'd be scared to death unless the carrier had some serious The Rock levels of muscle. THOSE STAIRS ARE STEEP. AND MANY. Just something to keep in mind when you read chapter 7 *cough*)
> 
> I came home a few days later, sat down, and basically wrote the entire story in less than ten days, and managed to end up with enough words for claims. It's a slow summer story, without much action, no pining, and really just lots and lots of fluff. There is so much blushing, I'm almost blushing in embarrassment myself. I just really wanted a story where basically only good things happened, everybody communicated, and things worked out XD 
> 
> Talking of things that work out, I have to thank my artist, [almaasi](http://almaasi.tumblr.com) ([Tumblr](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/179158313237/heres-all-the-art-i-made-for-delicious-ironys), [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/works) \- in addition to beta'ing the fic, she took my little story and magicked up some art that hits the tone and the setting brilliantly. I love the art so much - please head over to the art post and reblog it and flail about it and use it as your mobile's background!
> 
> Another big thank you is for my beta, [Whiskey Galore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore) \- she's got her own DCBB fic coming out shortly and since I've beta'ed it for her and thus got a free sneak-peek, I can tell you, it's a BLAST - and it's set in Scotland. SCOTLAND, people. That alone is enough reason to read it ;)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Masterpost on Tumblr](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/179162694955/title-the-magic-of-things-big-and-small-author)

 

 

 

Dean pulled the small boat up against the quay, grabbed the thick rope thrown hazardously into the aft of the boat and, with the ease of long practice, slung it around the nob in a small sailor’s knot. He got up and stretched his shoulders with a groan. The lake wasn’t all that big, but he had visited Sam in the main town, which happened to be almost at the opposite end of the lake from the tiny island. Normally Dean would have simply rowed to the near end of the lake, not even a third of the distance to St. Mary’s Harbour, and then taken his car, but it was summer and the tiny, picturesque town was overrun with tourists and more cars than could reasonably fit the narrow streets. St. Mary’s Harbour had grown organically over more than seven hundred years, and had been a small village before that. Huge parking lots for tourism had not been part of any city planning. Dean very much doubted that there had been any planning at all.

The lake wasn’t deep, just a bit over a hundred feet at its deepest point, but while the water as such was clear, the minerals dissolved in the water only allowed to see to a depth of maybe ten feet and made the lake appear much deeper than it was. There were a few motorised boats, mainly for the authorities and rescue teams, but the town council kept a very tight reign over those permits and while Dean could likely get one given his position, it would, at the very same time,  look odd for him to have a motor boat, given his position.

Dean didn’t mind the rowing, unless it was one of the days when the rain just wouldn’t let up - given that St. Mary’s Harbour and the creatively named St. Mary’s Lake were nestled in the middle of an impressive first taste of the Tarokee Alps, rain could be a daily companion for weeks on end. Other people went to the fitness studio to get some rowing done, Dean went home. And to work. He mostly lived on Pihra Island, and although the town did pay for a small apartment in town, Dean usually preferred staying on the island, not only because it made taking care of the morning ritual much easier. There was also a special quiet to the island, surrounded as it was by the lake and the mountains beyond, that the town simply couldn’t provide.

It was already well past sundown for St. Mary’s Harbour and the lake shimmered in the indistinct light filtering in between the alpine mountain tops, its surreal turquoise blue water almost glowing from within. The town glittered in the distance, its lights reflecting in the water.

 

 

Dean considered the mountains surrounding the lake, and the sky he could see beyond. In the North the last rays of sunset illuminated the mountain tops and the sky was bright and clear, but the mountains in the West were darker than Dean was comfortable with. He moved his backpack and the two bags with food - one fresh shopping, one leftovers from dinner - onto the quay. Then he climbed back onto the boat, pulled a thick, heavy duty rain skin from one of the side compartments, and secured it in place.

As he did every time when he had to carry anything up the one hundred steps to the temple at the top of the tiny but steep hill that was his island, Dean considered whether he should carry everything at once or make two trips, and like every time he ended up taking everything at once. Between the rowing and the constant running up and down insane amounts of steep steps, Dean considered himself in quite good shape.

Once at the top of the hill, Dean made his way past the small café and gift shop combo the town council insisted be there; given that it was well after nine in the evening, everything was already closed up for the night. Dean unlocked the side door of the building, carried everything upstairs and put the perishables into the fridge. He was planning on making pie the next day - given all the rowing and stepping he could have as much pie as he wanted, no matter what Sam said, thank you very much - and didn’t want to risk the cherries going bad overnight. Summer in the mountains tended to be cooler, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t get pretty hot anyway.

After a quick shower, Dean slipped on one of his more casual robes - no need to go all fancy and formal if it was just him on his own lighting the evening candle. The simple midnight blue robe just about reached his calves and and covered his elbows. Sam always joked that it looked a bit like a Roman boy’s toga, only a bit longer, but Dean himself was more reminded of a yukata. Which he also considered to be way more badass than a toga, but opinions on that differed. As if Sam had any leg to stand on with his boring lawyer suits, the tool. Dean brought the robe in shape with a thin rope-like belt made of golden twine - because even if he was going for casual, he still wanted to honour the goddess.

He eyed his boxers and after a moment of thought slipped them on. Often enough he went commando when he was wearing the long robes, although he definitely tended to prefer wearing underwear when there were any public ceremonies, no matter that the full regalia came with puffy trousers. He did not need any bits showing, thank you very much. Pihra was not that kind of goddess (although she was nowhere near opposed to the matter either). Also, winter in St. Mary’s Harbour tended to be a very, _very_ cold and postcard-levels of snowy affair, so while Dean happily skipped the trousers in summer most of the time, he was very grateful for their puffiness in winter as that made it very easy to hide a pair of thick thermal leggings beneath them.

Dean walked the short distance to the temple - really, he only had to cross the top of the rock that made up the island - and passed through the unlocked part that was open to all visitors and tourists. Outside of ceremonies the inner part of the temple could only be visited via the purchase of an, according to Charlie,  reasonably priced ticket (Dean thought people were being spectacularly overcharged, but then, thankfully enough, in this day and age Dean was not the one responsible for the temple’s budget).

The inner doors automatically unlocked for Dean. He meandered through the publicly accessible parts of the temple, checking that everything was alright after a day of visitors. Down the central part of the small temple, from the entrance to the gate of the Sanctissimum, a thick carpet protected the ancient stones from sneakers, flip-flops and the occasional unadvised high heels - but kudos to whoever managed to get up the stairs, through the temple, and down the stairs without tripping and breaking an ankle in ten inch stilettos. Like the steps of the stairs, the floor of the temple had been hewn from the natural rock of the island, and it was either just uneven enough to trip over some small irregularities, or worn so smooth by centuries of pilgrims that it was slippery even when dry.

The gate to the Sanctissimum was the object of as much awe and admiration as it was of myth and speculation: it opened to nobody, and even when it did stand open, nobody could pass the threshold except those that the goddess wanted to enter. The gate did not even have a handle, let alone a lock; it would simply swing open - or not, as the case was and had been for everybody but Dean over the last fifty-seven years. Much like kissing the Blarney Stone, if considerably more hygienic, standing before the gate had become a ritual for visitors, but given the recent inundation of tourists thanks to the town’s new tourist board’s labours - thanks, Sam - Dean had been considering changing this in the interests of preservation.

The day had been swelteringly hot, but inside the Sanctissimum the temperature tended to be around ten degrees Celsius all year round. On his way up the handful of steps that lead to the small octagonal room that was the Antechamber, Dean took one of the thick, broad shawls he kept on a hook in a tiny alcove. The front of the room and the big windows looked North, which meant that the only direct sunlight came in at the height of summer - a little from the East in the morning, and the very last rays of the setting sun in the West, shortly before it sunk below the mountains.

The central window was clear glass, looking directly at those mountains, but the others were a mosaic of blues of all tones and shades, even though the cyan blue of the lake dominated the spread, especially towards the lower edge of the window. Towards the top the night blue of Dean’s robes became the most prominent shade. Through the clear window the town’s lights and their reflections on the lake were visible. The huge windows were impressive today, and must have been even more so when the temple had been built centuries ago.

The arched ceiling, like all the man-made walls of the temple, was tinted in a clear white, but in the Antechamber the reason behind this became obvious: the ceiling reflected the faint light coming from the Sanctissimum deep down in the rock and flooded the chamber in the same surreal blue of the lake outside. Sometimes Dean thought that it was a bit of a waste, to have this embarrassment of beauty in here, simple but even more breathtaking because of it, and have nobody see it except him. Nobody to share it with.

Dean placed the shawl on a small table next to the entrance to the Antechamber and stepped towards the thick beeswax candle in the middle of the room. They weren’t even that far into tourist season yet and the rescue team already had had to save a total three people - a teenager and a couple - who had thought that a nightly swim in the milky blue of the lake would be the thing to top off their vacation. Personally, Dean thought that the couple had been up to something quite different that just an innocent swim, but who was he to judge. In any case, the couple had ended up with cramps - and again, Dean was withholding his opinion on why they would have had those cramps and why both partners had apparently managed to lose their swimwear - and the teenager had swum out too far on a dare, had lost his orientation and had swum further and further into the lake instead of back towards the shore.

So when Dean closed his eyes and bent his thoughts towards safety for the town and all who lived near the waters of the lake, he also added stupid tourists to his prayer. He felt the familiar ripple and when he opened his eyes again, the candle was burning. Dean was prepared to swear that the flame was amused. The shallow pool around the candle still held a little water, but its glow was growing faint. Dean would have to refill it tomorrow, or at the latest the day after. He thought about the upcoming festival. Maybe he would just keep the rock face covered until the evening ceremony that opened the Fires of the Lake festival and do the big refill then. The bright light would be visible from the small boats that would be covering the lake.

He picked up the shawl, stepped past the block of natural rock that held the candle, and carefully started down the stairs to the Sanctissmum. Given that the Temple sat on the top of the island, which was in itself a very big rock, and that the Antechamber was at the highest point of that rock, the climb down the spiral staircase to the Sanctissimum was long and steep. The staircase wound itself through the rock of the wall, just high and broad enough for Dean to walk unencumbered. He was still glad for the metal handrail that was between him and a straight 50 metres drop. He’d been assured a number of times that no harm would come to him, even if he dropped, but while he had faith in his goddess, he’d rather forgo the experience of falling down anything.

Like always, Dean felt a little like Alice in Wonderland, even if he walked like a sensible human being instead of plummeting into a well. Sam would geek out so much if he could see the bands of different colours, reds merging with yellows, whites and browns, following the structure of the rock. Stalactites grew from the ceiling, glowing softly from within in the warm colours of the stone and glittering in the cool blue light of the well below. The longest ones were right at the edge of the ceiling of the tunnel, like an inverted handrail.

At the bottom of the staircase, the rock receded and widened into a cavern that was about twice as high as Dean and several metres long. The ceiling twinkled with thousands of white stalactites, the longest ones close to the far wall almost a metre in length. The tunnel of that was the staircase now held an even path that ran along the edge of the water until it reached a platform-like outcrop of rock that was broad and long enough for two people to comfortably lie down. It tapered off into the water before the rock broke away again to form the main well. The main well that was visible from the Antechamber was the mouth of a well that went down a lot further, in the same almost completely circular shape. It connected to the lake close to the bottom of the island’s rock. The cave was lit in the soft glow of the water.

After the heat and humidity outside, the coolness of the Sanctissimum was almost a shock. After a moment of enjoying it, Dean drew the shawl around his shoulders and sat down on the bubblegum pink inflatable arm chair he kept down here. Experience had shown that while technically no harm could come to Dean as the priest of the temple, catching a cold because of the differences in temperature was not covered by that health insurance policy. Also, when he had first started spending long amounts of time down here, he had tried yoga cushions (Sam’s idea, of course) wrapped in huge plastic bags and cling foil (Dean’s idea, because the cave was always a little humid, even when it was mostly dry). That idea had died a wet death when the melt water had hit the lake in spring and raised the water levels enough to inundate the cave.

“I didn’t think you’d show today, I thought you said you’d spend the day with Sam and his family?”

“Yeah, well,” Dean threw back over his shoulder, “I had the feeling you wanted to see me, and I always come when you call. Also, I know you still try, but I’ve grown immune to you popping up out of nowhere by now.”

There was a put-upon sigh.

“Well, worth a try. I still remember fondly when you flailed so much you fell into the water.”

Dean snorted.

A girl stepped out from behind him. She looked about nine years old, had a head full of pigtails and face full of freckles, and her pale pink ballerina tutu dripped like a leaky shower head. Dean eyed her up and down.

“You’re not sitting down on my chair with that wet skirt.”

The girl stuck out her tongue at him. Dean stared at her.

“I’m not even sure I want to know," he finally said. “But why the hell are you looking this way?”

The girl shrugged.

“I saw her visiting the temple, and I liked the way she looked. Also, she was driving her parents to distraction. She seemed interesting. The pigtails are all bobby, look.”

She jumped up in place a few times to illustrate her point. The tutu whipped up and down as well and threw droplets in every direction.

“I’ve seen you in many different forms, but has it ever occurred to you that copying the look of a snotty nine year-old might make taking you seriously a little difficult? I feel like I’m either in the Never-ending Story or in the Exorcist; I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’m the goddess of this lake, you should know best that I am to be taken seriously.”

The girl looked at him, eyes glowing in the colour of the water. Dean groaned.

“I know, Pirah, I do, but you have braces and your tee shows three ponies that look like they’re on a bad trip.”

“Yeah, well, I’m keeping this form for now.”

Pirah wandered into the water until the tutu floated up around her. She looked delighted.

“Of course you do. If you show yourself during the flames festival, you might wanna pick something different though. Sam will have a conniption and the girl’s parents might either go bonkers crazy what with an ageless goddess copying their child's body, or try to sue you for copyright or whatever," Dean sighed. “Since I got sidetracked, why did you want to see me?”

Pirah stopped playing with the tutu and turned serious from one moment to the next.

“I know you’ve been feeling lonely, and I just wanted to tell you once again that I’m not only perfectly alright with you having a mate, but that I encourage it. It would be good for you, and I have a feeling that there will be somebody soon. Just keep an open mind.”

Dean must have looked sufficiently doubtful for her to continue.

“It will all work out just fine," she beamed. “If you two bone in the well, all that spunk’s going to be fantastic for the lake’s fertility!”

Dean was doomed.

 


	2. The New Guy

The next day, Dean got up early at sunrise despite how late he had stayed up the day before, talking about the wellbeing of the town (lesser souls might be tempted to call the chat between the priest and his goddess straight up gossiping, but fie upon them, they were convening on a deeply spiritual level, and the daily business of the town was an important thing to be aware and keep track of, thank you very much). 

The lake was still empty, only the most hardened nature lovers and some of the campers with sunny lots were about. The former because the lake at sunrise was the subject of most of the cheesy postcards the tourist boards had had printed, and the latter because lovely as the sun was, it was also very hot, and the campers were likely getting steamed alive in their tents. Dean went into the temple, checked that the candle had indeed extinguished itself with the first light of day, and then trudged down the steps to take a swim in the lake. As always, the water was fresher than Dean expected - damn it being a mountain lake. Still, it got him wide awake in a second flat, and after three laps around the island Dean felt that his daily exercise was done. Besides, there were always the stairs. 

It was still too early for the visitors, so he swam back to the main staircase and trudged up to his apartment. The cafe-cum-shop was still closed, but Dean suspected that Charlie would be preparing for the day by the time Dean came back down. If he was quick he might be able to hitch a ride on the supply boat, and that was an incentive to hurry up like few others. Rowing was great exercise, but if he could get out of it… he had done his laps already after all. Maybe he could either bug Sam into driving him back in the evening, or sneak onto the last tourist boat if it didn't get too late. Depending on the schedule of the rowing club, one of their teams might be willing to ferry him across as well. Dean supposed he could go to his apartment to have a shower and get changed if he got all sweaty rowing, and given that he was going to meet Sam for lunch break at the beach he might very well have to anyway. 

No, if Dean was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he simply did not feel like rowing for over half an hour in each direction today to get directly into town. He could do the short trip to the camping ground where he was allowed to park Baby, but trying to find an empty spot for the huge car anywhere near the town centre would be even more of a hassle. Dean just wasn't feeling it today.

The supply boat showed up five minutes after Dean had made his way down to the quay again, bringing both Charlie and her on and off girlfriend Dorothy as well as one of the set of baby giants Dorothy employed to do the literal heavy lifting for her. Dorothy supplied the local cafes with freshly baked goods as well as the usual ins and outs that running a coffee shop entailed: anything from coffee to custom-printed serviettes. As far as Dean knew, she was also the delivering deli market for the not inconsequential number of villas and manors surrounding the lake, procuring anything her patrons might order. Dean was reasonably sure that there was a code word to order any number of things not technically in the ‘normal’ catalogue she provided her clients with. Dean was also reasonably sure that he did not need any confirmation of his suspicions and was better off with plausible deniability and the lack of a guilty conscience demanding he let Sam and therefore the authorities know. 

“Winchester!” Dorothy called, jumping off the boat with way more energy than a human being should be able to display at this time of day, and dragging the boat towards the block to secure it. “Haven’t seen you in a while, bluecoat! How’s the missus?”

Dean rolled his eyes and returned the bone-crushing hug. Again, Dean made the conscious decision to ignore it.

“A good morning to you too, Dodo," Dean said and grinned when Dorothy pulled a face at the nickname. “And I’m fine too, incidentally, thanks so much for asking. You keep calling her missus and she’s gonna dunk you somewhere in the lake next time you cross it and not let you up for air until you're just as blue as the water.”

Dorothy winked at him.

“The Lady and I are on good terms, I’ve been assured of that by the local high priest, and dork as he might be in all other matters, I trust him on that.”

“Thank you for the glowing endorsement,” Dean said. Dorothy laughed. “Being high priest really is a huge honour, especially when you're the  _ only _ priest.”

“She could pick somebody else.”

Dean, being the mature adult and high priest that he was, stuck out his tongue at her. Charlie hit him on the back of his head.

“Stop flirting with my wife, Deano-beano," she admonished. “Goddess, you two are worse than two three-year olds.”

Dorothy just snorted at that. Charlie retaliated by sticking out her tongue at Dorothy.

Then she clapped her hands. 

“Anyway, time waits for no woman and I need to get the cafe ready to open. First boat will show up at about nine; weather being nice as it is, Benny might decide to get an early start if there's enough people to fill the boat.”

Dean nodded.

“He’s been gunning for getting in seven runs a day, which I don't even know whether it’s allowed by Sam’s shiny new tourism laws.”

“Andrea’s with child, isn’t she?” Dorothy mused. “Benny might be trying to get some cash  saved up for the winter as well as the baby, diaper-poopers are expensive.”

Dean stared at her. 

“Diaper-poopers?” he asked incredulously.

Dorothy shrugged and pointed at the guy behind her who had started unloading the boat and carrying the crates up the stairs. Hans must have heard them, because he stopped and gave them a big toothy and slightly scary smile. When Hans waved at them, his biceps bulged almost obscenely. Dean gulped. The guy was seriously buff. The Rock came to mind and Dean appreciated the view of Hans ascending the stairs, carrying one of the crates with each hand and looking for all the world as if he was on a leisurely Sunday stroll along the beach. 

“Blame my German colleague, Hans keeps calling them that. He’s got two of them at the moment.”

“Two?”

“Twin girls.”

With everybody chipping in, they were soon finished carrying most supplies up to the cafe - mostly because Dean chipping in meant Dean gently nudging the crates to move up the stairs themselves. Charlie shook her head.

“I’ll never understand why you don’t just levitate, or even better, beam them up, Dean,” Charlie said, gesturing at the crates arranging themselves in a line and, bobbing and wobbling, floating up the stairs. “Honestly, they look like Merlin packing his books in  _ The Sword In The Stone _ .”

Dean shrugged.

“Easier on me if I don’t have to do all the heavy lifting and they do some of the work themselves.”

Most of the crates danced right into the storage room of the café, but few of the bulkier ones settled down on the little square in front of the café. Hans would stay on the island for the morning and help Charlie put away the heavier things as well as set up the little tables that would make up the outside sitting area. Dorothy would be dropping by for a late lunch and take Hans back with her then. 

“I’d love to stay the morning, but there’s business to attend to, goods to deliver, new orders to take…” She shrugged. “The joys of owning a business.”

The trip across the lake was much quicker with the motorboat, and Dean enjoyed the fresh air whipping through his hair. He helped Dorothy secure the boat and, after a brief hug good-bye and a promise to meet up for coffee at some point - which meant they usually ended up after hours at the cafe on the island anyway - Dean went in search of more coffee. Breakfast coffee had already been too long ago. Catching Dorothy’s boat meant that he was in town earlier than he had expected to be, but Dean was more than happy to have a walk through the park and down the promenade lining the lake. 

In one spot a huge market was in the process of being set up and made presentable for the impending wave of tourists. It offered the usual fare of local arts and crafts, some curiosities and antiques as well as some food and drinks. The various products of the local crocheting club held little interest for Dean, and he didn't have any use for fancy artist ceramics either. He did like one series of tea cups, bowls and plates, the colours a vibrant mix of greens and blues that reminded him of the lake. He’d check if he could get a set of those, either for his own apartment or maybe for the temple for when he had to host official visits or couples came to talk to him about getting married on the island. 

Soon enough, Dean had made his way to the stalls selling foodstuff and he was delighted to see Luigi, an Italian expatriate who specialised in deli imports. Dean allowed himself to be offered to try basically every single antipasti Luigi had, from stuffed olives to soft goat cheeses wrapped in vine leaves and six different versions of what was basically dried tomatoes soaked in different combinations of olive oil and spices. They had the whole process down to an art form - Luigi would insist on him trying all his wares every time, Dean would put up a token protest saying he had already been allowed to taste everything last time, only to cave and have a go at everything all over again. In the end he did always buy a bag of assorted olives, huge green ones in garlic, black ones with chilli, a few more stuffed with goat cheese. Dean always marvelled at Luigi’s bags and whether anybody ever bought a completely full one: the diameter was what one would expect, but they were more than a foot long. Dean usually rolled the bag up to get to the contents below. 

A few of the other stall owners waved Dean over, offering him stuff to try in their turn - Dean didn't do it that often, but a stroll down the market basically took care of an entire meal, in this case, a late second breakfast (so what if Dean had Hobbit tendencies). Dean enjoyed talking to them and it was good to have a connection to the people who lived around the lake, who fished in its waters and grew crops in the fields and hills around it. Dean was wearing what he jokingly referred to as his civvies - sneakers, jeans, a tee and a plaid shirt - and therefore went unnoticed by the tourist crowd. The locals were used to him and didn’t ask for miracles and magic tricks. 

After the market Dean went to the, in his opinion, hideously ugly shopping centre of the town and rummaged through some of the clothes on sale. The only thing he could find that he liked was another plaid shirt, but Jess had embargoed them. Dean walked through the other stores as well and spent a long time at the local pet shop playing with a litter of Siamese cats - another perk of being the local priest: being allowed to pet the animals. (And being miraculously cured of any and all allergies.) By the time Dean had to leave for his lunch date with his brother, he was sufficiently covered in short, beige hair to annoy Sam. Dean hoped Sam was wearing a dark suit.

The lunch date was scheduled at The View, because ever since Sam had become the mayor he said such things as pencilling Dean in and scheduled lunch dates with his brother. When he had only been one of the lawyers at Crowley’s firm he had been able to have lunch with Dean without making it into an official appointment. Dean, however, was happy for Sam’s success, even if that meant having to tell the maitre de that he was here for an appointment with the mayor, his brother.

The waiter took Dean to a nicely set table on the terrace, which overlooked the lake and offered a prime view of the island and the towers of Pirah’s temple. To Dean’s surprise, there was another man with Sam: a little smaller than Dean maybe, a nest of dark hair and eyes that were not exactly the shade of the lake, they were a touch bluer maybe, but of the same bright intensity. The man was wearing a smart, dark suit, but had left the white dress shirt collar open and forgone a tie. Dean very much approved. At least of his looks, if not necessarily of his presence here with Sam.

“Dean! And actually on time for once!” Sam greeted Dean with a broad smile, vibrating with an obvious enthusiasm to introduce him to the stranger. “Dean, allow me to introduce Castiel Novak, the new director of the tourist board. He’s a specialist for eco-friendly tourism. Castiel, my brother Dean.”

Castiel gave Dean a tentative smile and a dorky little wave that was in sharp contrast to his executive manager get-up.

“Hello, Dean," Castiel said with a voice that was much deeper and grumblier than Dean would have expected. “It's good to finally meet you. Sam has talked about you a great deal.”

Dean shook the offered hand. Castiel’s hands were the same size as his own, but where his were rough from lots of rowing and work on the island, Castiel’s were smooth. Castiel had, however, a pleasant grip, sure and intent but not too strong as if he had to prove anything. His hand was warm and dry and Dean didn’t want to let it go. 

Dean coughed. “Well, whatever he said, if it was good it’s all true, and a nasty lie if it was bad," he said. Sam groaned but Castiel laughed.

“I assure you it was all good.”

Dean grinned.

“Well, in that case, I hope he didn’t make me out to be as boring as he is, because if he decided it was stuff he could share in public then it was probably all the inoffensive stuff.”

Castiel looked delighted.

“In that case, I hope I’ll get to hear about the offensive stuff from you directly," he said. “And please, call me Cas. Castiel can be a bit of a mouthful.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, Cas," Dean smirked, giving Castiel an obvious all-over, lingering for just a moment on his crotch-area to get his point across. He winked. “And I’m sure he is.”

Sam groaned and covered his face. 

“Oh my god, guys, can you not?”

“I don't know what you mean, Sammy, you brought somebody I’d never heard a word about to lunch, so I need to make up for your slacking and get to know the guy myself. You should be grateful I am willing to help you out there.” He turned to Cas. “Sorry, Cas, I’ve I seemed a little lost there, I had honestly no idea you’d be joining us. I had no clue we’d be getting a new boss at the tourist board, but you can only improve things, really, so I’m down to hear what you’ve got to say. Zachariah, the old coot, was a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about Zachariah, and he must really have left an impression," Cas said. “I’d almost like to meet him, just for curiosity’s sake.”

Dean was surprised.

“You mean you didn’t meet him?” He turned to Sam. “Cas didn’t meet the Zachariah the Pariah?”

Sam pulled a face at the name, but didn’t protest. He shrugged and motioned them all to sit down. Dean bumped Sam out of the way to sit directly opposite Castiel. Sam glowered at Dean, but Castiel gave him a smile that made the skin around his eyes crinkle, so suck it Sammy.

“You know that we had him escorted off the premises last week and we didn’t allow him back into the building. And shortly after Judy arrested him anyway when he was caught hightailing it out of town," Sam finally continued.

“I didn’t think you could hightail it out of town, I would have thought the overload of tourist buses would keep anyone from going any faster than 3 miles per hour, and that’s on a good day when the traffic jam’s at least moving," Dean marvelled. 

“Yeah, well, turns out you really can’t; he got stuck between two buses just outside Pewter Street," Sam grinned. He turned to Castiel to explain. “That’s just off the exit to the highway. But that’s not even the best part. Do you know how he got stuck between two buses? Both drivers had to stop because both buses just happened to run out of fuel at that exact moment.”

Castiel stared at Sam, wide-eyed.

“That… how did that happen? That’s the statistical equivalent of, I don't know, being hit on the head by a flower pot.”

Dean snickered.

“Yeah, well, welcome to St. Mary’s Harbour.”

Castiel looked doubtful.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“Dude,” Dean spluttered, “that’s got everything to do with it!”

“Are you referring to the magic lake mystery thing that’s all over your advertising for the town?” Castiel asked.

Dean could only stare at him. Then he rounded on Sam.

“You didn’t tell him.”

Sam buried himself in the menu. Dean stood up, asked Castiel for a moment and dragged Sam around the next corner.

“That’s why you’re here," Sam said, sounding guilty.

“Honestly, Sam, sometimes I just don’t believe you. And you decided to do that, what, two hours before the board meeting? Does he even, you know, believe in that stuff? Because that would be good to know.”

Sam gave an apologetic shrug. 

“It’s not really something I could ask him over the phone, and when he came for the interview he was a perfect fit and by far the most qualified applicant, and I didn’t want to ruin that-”

“-by asking whether he believed in magic and stuff? Jesus, Sammy, what do you expect me to do? Flash my magic bits at him?”

“It’s not like you're not planning on doing that anyway, aren’t you," Sam said dryly. 

“Are you admitting that I’ve got a magic dick? Because that very much sounded like it, you know.”

“Dean! I’m sorry, ok? I thought it would be better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, and if you take him to the island and show him-”

“You do realise I can’t actually show him any magic wells unless Pirah lets him in, right? I mean I could show him my magic dick, but, as you said, I’m planning on doing th-”

“Hell, I didn’t mean the Lady’s secret well-”

“Ew, Sammy, you didn’t just say this, did you, because I’m gonna tell Pirah and she’ll either collapse laughing or gift you a magic well, if you know what I mean-”

““Dean, I’ve told you a million times, I know very well you’re not dumb, and just because Dad was an idiot and only all too happy to dump you at that temple the moment that friggin’ door creaked open-”

“Can we leave dad out of this, this is about you being a colossal prick and trying to spring-”

Somebody coughed behind them. Dean and Sam both froze.

Castiel was apparently torn between wringing his hands and rubbing his neck and it made for weird aborted half-motions that Dean thought were cuter than they ought to be.

“Is everything alright?” Castiel asked carefully. He was still looking from one to the other as if he’d just spent the last minute following a vicious ping pong match.

The brothers deflated. 

“Yeah, Cas, it’s all good. Sammy here just neglected to mention a teeny tiny detail about this place.”

“In my defence, it’s not like it’s not a widely known phenomena," Sam threw in. “We’re not the only place that claims to be magical.”

“But that’s the point, Sammy, we don’t claim to be anything.”

“But again, lot’s of places advertise with their special stuff, and those are true as well, so it’s not like we’re the only ones where Castiel could have come across this issue, so I don’t see the problem-”

“Of course you don’t see the problem, Sammy! What if it turns out he doesn’t believe no matter what or that he’s got a problem with this, and decides he’d rather leave again? By now the other possibles you had will probably have already found someplace else!”

“I doubt that, but-”

Castiel cleared his throat again.

“Sam, Dean. I have no idea what you're talking about, but somehow I’m getting the feeling that it has to with my job and my suitability for it, and I would like to answer your concerns if there are any.” Castiel’s face said that he clearly thought there were. “I can assure you that I am very open minded as well as professional, and even if I should be unable to handle this job in the long run due to the purportedly tiny detail Sam apparently neglected to mention, I would not just leave and let you muddle through on your own.”

Sam sighed.

“You’re both right. I should not have thought that I’d just spring that on you once you’d already signed-”

“I mean, I’m no lawyer," Dean threw in, “but I’d think that would amount to fraud and the contract wouldn't be binding anyway, would it?”

“Yes, thank you, Dean, for that helpful insight," Sam bit out. “Now that we’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve messed up, can we sit back down, order some food before the lunch break is over and talk about that detail I neglected to mention?”

Once they had all ordered - Dean was stumped to see that Cas had happily ordered a vegetarian burger and was apparently actually looking forward to eating it - Sam self-consciously scratched his cheek.

“Well, Castiel, I don’t think there’s any subtle way to say this, but, long story short, we’re one of those places that use magical not as a metaphor.”

“I wonder whether that shouldn’t be hyperbole," Dean interrupted. 

“For crying out loud, will you just shut up for a moment, Dean-”

“You invited me here so I would talk! Save your sorry ass-”

Castiel’s rumble cut across them both as he said, “If I’d had any doubts about you two being brothers, they would be being laid to rest now.”

Dean snickered. Sam clearly wanted to roll his eyes but obviously tried to pretend that he had manners.

“I’m sorry, Castiel, I really am. There’s just no accounting for Dean’s-”

“Hey! What has your screw-up to do with my anything-”

“Dean! Please!”

“Fine!”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. 

“So what you’re telling me is that St. Mary’s Harbour actually is what it says on the tin?”

Dean and Sam nodded.

“Huh.” Castiel considered. “That’s certainly unexpected.”

“Is it a problem?” Dean asked roughly.

Castiel looked up at him.

“What? No, not at all. It’s just magical spots and mystery spots and what-have-you spots are so popular these days that it’s  genuinely surprising that I happened to stumble across one of the real ones.”

“Oh.”

Sam side-eyed Dean.

“So, the magic is not a problem for you?” he asked Castiel.

“Why would it be?” Castiel was back to looking genuinely confused. Dean felt his stomach relax, but didn’t want to think too closely about why that might be the case.

“Well,” Sam started, but Dean kicked him under the table. “Ouch! What the heck, Dean!”

Dean felt his face burn. He was sure he was rapidly starting to look like an overripe tomato.

“You brought me here to talk, didn’t you, so I’ll talk about that part once we’ve talked about the other part, ok?”

Castiel sighed.

“What else do I need to know? Again, I’m getting the feeling that there’s something.”

Thankfully, that was the moment the waiter brought their food, and for the next few minutes everybody enjoyed their food in pleasant silence. Once the entree and the main course were finished, all three felt like they still had space for dessert. Dean ordered the apple pie, to Sam’s exasperation - “Why would you always order the same when you have a full page, a full page, Dean, of different desserts?! Why?!” - and Castiel’s subsequent amusement. Sam got a French concoction with a very long and close to unpronounceable name - “Just admit it, Sam, you have no idea what that is, you just ordered it because it makes you think of supercalifragelisiticexpialidocious!” - and Castiel hemmed and hawed for so long that the waiter was back with their coffees before he finally managed to decide on chocolate mousse with seasonal fruits - and neither brother heckled him for it, if for very different reasons. Sam felt it would be unprofessional and impolite, and Dean felt, simply put, too shy and was worried he’d offend beyond redemption. 

Once they all laid back and were valiantly resisting the urge to adjust their belts, Castiel brought the conversation back on topic. 

“By the way, why did Zachariah get arrested? Since there was talk of fraud, I assumed literally false advertising, but if St. Mary’s claim to magic is genuine, then that couldn't have been the reason.”

“You’re not wrong with the fraud part, Castiel,” Sam said. “I would have explained today at the meeting, but you probably should know beforehand anyway. The advertising was on point, but the issue was more that Zachariah funnelled a lot of the money that the tourist board had intended to feed back into the town - restoration, preservation, better parking, etc. -  into his own pockets.”

“Not to mention that he tried to grope the local high priest," Dean piped up.

Castiel’s eyes grew big as saucers. 

“He did what? He sexually assaulted somebody?”

“Well, he tried to anyway. Why do you think the buses ran out of fuel when they did?” Dean chuckled. “Pirah was not pleased with him, I can tell you that.”

“Pirah… the local goddess? Mhm. Yes, I assume she’s real then too," Castiel mused. “I hope the Lady of the Lake didn’t punish the priest?”

Dean stared at him, flabbergasted.

“Why would she do that? She was close to ripping good old Zack a new one, actually.”

Castiel shrugged.

“Some gods and goddesses don’t react well to their priests being connected to anything sexual in any way," he said carefully. “Also, you seem very lax in your polite addresses of the Lady; are you not afraid that she will be displeased with you and curse you?”

Dean snorted.

“Nah, trust me, I’m good. Also, Pirah wouldn't begrudge her priests or priestesses any relationships, sexual or not.” 

In fact, he thought, she’d probably tell him to celebrate the union down in her well, and keep celebrating it there, repeatedly, with her watching. Dean wasn’t sure whether she’d actually join in, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Your local goddess seems very… kind?” Castiel tried.

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, she’s very hip, too.”

Castiel did not seem to know what to do with this information. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Who even says that anymore, seriously. But never mind. I’m glad the magic isn’t a problem. Shall we pay? I need to get back to the office and prepare some more stuff for the meeting later, but the two of you could take a stroll along the lake until it’s time and chat some more?”

Dean gave Sam his best you’re-not-fooling-me look; he had a very good idea what Sam wanted him to ‘chat’ about.

Sam paid for the meal - “Counts as a business lunch, it’s on the town.” - and they left the restaurant, waving a goodbye at the staff behind the bar. Next to the entrance, there was a bicycle rack and Sam unlocked his ancient bike. Dean always imagined that it would be this kind of bike that the old British prime minister John Major must have had in mind when he blabbered about old maids cycling to Holy Communion through the morning mist. Sam took his bright green helmet out of the wicker basket attached to the handlebar and rolled up his right trouser leg to secure it in place with a bright, reflective yellow band. Then he jumped onto his bike and took off, reminding Dean to be punctual and supplicating Castiel to please drag Dean along by whatever means necessary should he not come willingly.

Castiel looked after Sam as he first gave a hand-signal fully extending his arm for maximal visibility and then raised his hand high to thank the driver who had allowed Sam to swerve into traffic before him.

  
  



	3. The High Priest

“So, that’s Sam.”

“Yep," Dean slumped. “Sorry about him. I did the best I could.”

“Hm. You don’t strike me like the selfish type," Castiel said and almost immediately blushed a ferocious scarlet and all but slapped his hand across his mouth. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Dean burst out laughing. “But the thing is, you did!” He sniggered. “Dude, you’re awesome. We’re gonna get along swell. Oh my god, I’ve got finally somebody to tag-team Sam the way he and Jess usually tag-team me!” Dean’s delight died a quick death. “On the other hand, you’ll probably get along with Jess like a house on fire, and the two of you will go tag-team Sam and me.”

Castiel grinned. “I could never, not after I handed you such perfect blackmailing material on a silver platter, now could I. Whatever shall I do, you now have something over me, and something I said against my boss no less.”

“Cas, it kinda scares me that I cannot tell whether you’re joking or serious, but that sounds like the opening line to a bad porno.”

“Just because it sounds like one doesn’t mean it has to be one," Cas pursed his lips, returning Dean’s earlier perusal, but with much more obvious attention. So much more obvious attention, in fact, that it took Dean a second to catch on that Cas was pulling his leg.

“Oh man, you got me good there," he laughed.

Castiel smirked.

“Not yet I didn’t.”

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t turn everything into an innuendo!”

Castiel’s straight face cracked slowly. It started with a twitch of the left corner of his mouth before his eyes crinkled more and more. Then suddenly, his entire face exploded into a goofy grin and Castiel himself into giggles. Dean soaked it all up.

“You really handed me that one, but it’s almost too easy, like taking candy from a baby," Castiel said. “But in the interest of completeness: just Cas is fine.”

“You little shit," Dean said, full of admiration. “You do know that no good pun goes un-pun-ished, right?”

“Are you expecting me to answer that with please punish me, I’ve been a naughty naughty boy? Because I’d have to tell you, that’s not one of my kinks.”

“My, my, are we into kink negotiation already then? Well in that case, I enjoy being tied up like a pretzel and my safeword is ‘coughpixie’.”

“Really?” Cas asked, blushing like a champion but clearly intrigued.

“Oh my goddess, no, Cas, Jesus Christ," Dean spluttered. “I mean, the tying up, yes, but not like a pretzel, I’m not that flexible.”

“Well, I am," Castiel smirked. Dean stared at him wide-eyed and promptly stumbled where they were walking down the stairs towards the promenade. Castiel caught him and definitely didn’t let go within an even remotely socially acceptable amount of time. It occurred to Dean that they’d been gazing into each other's eyes for what had to have been well above a minute. Finally Cas cleared his throat, with obvious reluctance removed his hand from Dean’s shoulder, and continued. “What about that safeword though, is that even a word?”

“Sam and I came up with a similar word as kids when our dad was… not good to be around. I couldn’t think of anything else, but I didn’t want to use the same word either, too many bad memories, so… I switched the letters around a little.”

“And that actually works for you? You haven’t found it difficult keeping those two words apart in, um, the heat of the moment?”

Dean studiously looked away, out over the lake. He felt his ears going red. He was certainly exercising his blood vessels and his circulation today with all that blushing he was doing, especially since his circulation had to work hard against gravity to get all that blood back up from where it kept rushing down to his dick.

“Dean?”

“Um…”

Cas raised his hands, waving his question away. “I’m sorry, Dean, if I’ve been too forward, you certainly don’t have to answer this if it makes you uncomfortable; I really have to apologise. I don’t know what got into me to ask that, it’s not my place and with this being our first meeting-”

“Cas, it’s fine, no worries," Dean cut off Cas’ rambling. He blushed some more. “I just might not yet have had… um… that many opportunities to try it and see how it, uh, the safeword, I mean, actually works for me.”

Castiel tilted his head like a confused cat. He blinked.

“That is, I mean to say that… you know, putting it that way…”

“Dean, you have used a safeword in a sexual context, haven’t you?”

“Cas!” Dean squawked. “Well… um… not as… such?”

They stared at each other for a moment and then both broke down in wheezing laughs that earned them a few concerned looks from the other people walking along the shoreline.

When they finally were able to breathe again, they climbed up the stone balustrade and sat down, letting their feet dangle above the water. Castiel frowned and then took off his shoes and carefully put them onto the balustrade beside himself. Dean raised his eyebrows.

 

 

“They’re really just loafers," Castiel explained. “I’m afraid they’ll just slip off and fall into the water.”

“That ever happened to you?” Dean marvelled.

“Yep," Castiel said, popping the p. “But to be fair, it has to be said that they were new shoes, and my older brother had gone through the trouble of getting a similar pair just one size too big. He exchanged them without me noticing it, and when I put them on I noticed that they were a little looser than I remembered, but I was still innocent then. In a nutshell what happened was that I lost both shoes to the pond in the park where we were celebrating my eldest sister’s wedding.”

It probably hadn’t been fun at the time, but Castiel seemed to enjoy that his story was making Dean laugh. Castiel gave him a fond look.

“Before you ask, my eldest sister is almost fifteen years older than I am. I am the second youngest of the lot. Also, Michael is very devout and married really young.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Four. Michael, the eldest, the twins Gabriel and Anna, and my younger brother, incidentally also called Sammy.”

“Seriously?”

“Well,” Castiel smiled, “his name is Samandriel, so you see, considering that, I still got off easy. He insists on being called Sam, for some completely obscure reason.”

They sat for a while in companionable silence and just watched the wind paint ripples onto the lake and enjoyed the sunshine, warm on their skin. Occasionally the sound of laughter and the shrieks of teenagers would drift along from somewhere on the lake, carried far by the water,. In the park behind them a gaggle of young kids was playing tag with Rufus’ dog, a massive Saint Bernard that had never really understood that it wasn’t a puppy anymore, while Rufus was sitting on a deckchair under his favourite tree and plucking his guitar. Occasionally he’d sing a few old country songs, but usually he was improvising and jazzing up whatever ‘boring pop song’ he’d disliked on the radio on any given morning. The smell of fresh waffles wafted over from the small wagon of a street food vendor a little further up the promenade.

One of the tourist boats was just starting its journey to the island. The captain stood at the rear of the boat, using his whole body to lean into the long paddle, swaying back and forth like a grandfather’s chair and ever so slowly moving the boat across the lake. Dean knew that it would take them the better part of half an hour to cross the lake at that pace. Benny was trying to beat not only the record of most trips a day, but also the record for the fastest paddle-boat crossing. Dorothy considered keeping the tradition alive an honourable endeavour, but she would still zoom past Benny with her motorboat. If Charlie was on the boat with her, she’d yell “Eat my fairy dust!," without fail every time.

Dean sighed. There was nothing for it, he’d have to tell Cas about the rest that Sam had been too chicken shit to mention. He wasn’t afraid that Cas would leave them hanging as the tourist board’s director, but he sent a quick prayer to Pirah that they would be able to keep the easy rapport that they had between them.

Dean turned to Castiel. He hadn't known the man long, but he already felt that he wanted to get to know him better, spend more time with him. It felt like this could go somewhere, something Dean hadn't felt all that many times in his life.

His first tentative girlfriend had dropped him like a hot potato when Dean had turned out to be the next priest. Lisa firmly believed that Dean as a High Priest couldn’t be a father to her son the way Ben and she would have needed him. Aaron was all for a friends with benefits arrangement, but at least he told Dean straight up front and that he couldn't see himself moving out there into the middle of nowhere with Dean, even if the landscape was nice. Pamela had been much more interested in the temple than in Dean, which Dean finally realised when he took her there. Pamela stood in front of the gate which remained firmly closed, and which wouldn't let her pass once it had swung open for Dean either. Pamela had a fit and took off ranting about stupid goddesses and selfish priests. Dean never saw her again, but he was glad he hadn’t moved in with her when he found the few things he had left at her place strewn on the street outside. He hadn’t been sorry to see her go when she just happened to move back to New Orleans after spending not even a year in St. Mary’s Harbour.

After Pamela, Dean had sort of stopped dating, but now he felt like trying again.

“Cas, Sam wanted me to talk to you about something, but there’s something I need to tell you as well.”

Castiel turned towards Dean and smiled.

“Am I guessing correctly that the two are related?”

Dean huffed in amusement.

“Yeah, kinda. What gave it away?” He joked.

“I don’t know,” Castiel grinned. “The very loudly whispered argument behind a corner was a clue, but you kicking Sam under the table was a big hint too.”

“Yeah well," Dean stalled. “It’s not like it’s a secret, but since he hadn’t told you already I figured it wasn’t his to tell you anymore once I was there.”

Castiel took Dean’s hand and held it tightly for a moment.

“Dean, just tell me. I promise I won’t stomp away in a strop without giving you a chance to explain. Whatever it is, I’ll listen until you’re finished," he said earnestly.

“Ok.” Dean took a deep breath and kept holding Castiel’s hand. He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry for being such a wuss about this; I haven’t had the best experiences telling people I’m interested in. Right. There’s no way to put this gently: I’m sure you’ve read up on it what with being the new tourism guy, and Sam also mentioned that there’s a pretty ancient temple on top of Pirah’s Island. Pirah is the local Goddess, and there’s also a local priest to go with the goddess and the temple, which is me. Tadaa!”

Dean raised his free hand in a weak tadaa-gesture.

Castiel gave Dean a cheeky smile.

“So you’re saying you’re interested in me?”

Dean snorted.

“That’s what you got from this?”

“Well, to be fair, it was both the information most relevant to my current situation, and the one I didn’t already know, so-”

“You knew about the priest thing?” Dean could feel his eyes bugging.

“Hm, in a way, knew is maybe the wrong word," Castiel mused. “I did do my research on this place before I applied for the job, Dean, also to prepare for the interview and to present a concept of what I would envision for the region. It’s impossible to google St. Mary’s Harbour and not also find your name and pictures of you. The story of the first priest to be chosen after the better part of half a century was a good one; you need to remember that I was working under the assumption that this was all it was, a story to position the town on an international stage. Temple-touring is a thing, Dean, and visiting local goddesses and gods has been increasingly popular. The way you became high priest only adds to that.”

“I don’t know about high priest, I’m the only one so there’s not really a lotta competition for the title," Dean grumbled for lack of anything better to say.

Castiel smiled.

“There might be in the future, and then you’ll still be the first the Lady picked in a long time.”

Dean pulled a face but didn’t know what to say to that. He thought about what Castiel had said, watching his thumb rub tiny circles onto the back of his hand. Suddenly something occurred to him.

“But Cas, even if you thought that the entire story was a hoax, I know that the footage from my indoctrination ceremony is still around online somewhere, I think it’s even buried somewhere on YouTube. Not all of it since nobody was able to film on the island since Pirah didn’t want that part to be public, but still, the first part should be around somewhere and it’s the more impressive part anyway.”

Castiel ducked his head.

“I did see that video, but I assumed the impressive parts were CGI.”

“You didn’t.”

“I so did," Castiel snorted. “In fact I remember being deeply awed when you actually managed to get into the water, because I had no doubt whatsoever that it really _was_ winter. How did you do that?”

“One of the perks of being a priest of the goddess claiming the lake as her home: to me the water felt balmy warm," Dean explained, smirking.

Castiel seemed suitably impressed, even with the ‘trick’ revealed.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Dean? You don’t have to answer, and if you do then whatever you say will stay between us.”

“Sure, ask away.”

“How did you become a priest in the first place?”

  



	4. The Ceremony

Dean, Sam and their dad had been on their way through town, Dean just half a year over fifteen at the time, and Sam four years younger. Their dad had made it his mission to denounce all the frauds in the country; a mission fuelled by his anger over losing his wife when a supernatural healer had promised to save her but failed. Mary had been suffering from cancer in its final stage; it had been detected too late and the cancer had been too aggressive to do much. Mary had told Dean at the time, but Sam had been too young to understand that the healer had not killed their mother. According to the doctors, Mary should have died much sooner, so as far as Dean knew, Billy had managed to give Mary a few more months. 

Dean didn’t know why St. Mary’s Harbour had pinged his father’s radar, and in hindsight it probably didn’t matter much: had it been the name that had called to John, or had it been a higher plan? Fate? Pirah, with her serious face on, had once told him that nobody knew exactly how Fate worked, but the lady was Busy with a capital b and you didn’t disturb her with stupid questions, let alone make her angry and annoy her. Bad things happened to people who tempted Fate. Dean, barely sixteen by then, had brought up the conundrum whether what happened to those people would then not have been their fate in the first place. Pirah had laughed. 

“It might have been, or it might not have been, but how would you ever know or prove it if the only being aware of the truth was Fate herself?” The goddess had returned his question, amusement making her eerily blue eyes twinkle. Dean hadn’t thought that that was a real answer, but he had earned soon enough that most supernatural beings had an aversion to committing to a clear statement and had raised hedging to an art form. 

When John rode into town in the Impala, Dean had been resigned to another couple of months of dredging along after John, listening to him being ‘subtle’ in his interrogations and trying to keep an almost equally fanatic Sammy out of it as much as he could. Dean had managed to find a sort of summer program that he tried to get Sam into, but it cost more money than he had on hand. They had agreed to keep Sam for the time Dean had been able to pay in advance, and it was only his luck that John had decided to visit the island within the first week of arriving. John insisted on going ‘as a family’, mainly because he could hide some of his equipment in each boy’s backpack.

The island had not looked any different than it did now, the decade in between barely registering, nothing more than a blip in the long, long history of the island and its temple. Dean vividly remembered walking up that long, steep staircase for the very first time, being mesmerised by the glowing blue of the lake. He wished he could say that he had felt the temple calling out to him, but until he had stepped in front of the gate to the Antechamber - holding one of his father’s EMF meters in his hand, hidden below his plaid shirt, just like John had demanded he do - he had not felt anything to be amiss. It had been an overcast day in early summer, the air still damp from an earlier shower, and the temple had looked more foreboding than inviting as they had been rowed towards the island. 

It hadn’t been until he had stood right in front of the gate that he had started feeling a little dizzy. It had felt as if he had been swimming in a coolish lake, and suddenly passed through a current of much warmer water. Today he knew that the prickling along his spine had been magic, had always been magic, but then he had only known to interpret it as the usual premonition that something was off. Before Dean could step back, the huge stone gate had parted right down the middle and both wings had swung out towards him before gliding back and folding against the wall, leaving an arch for him to walk through. 

The tourist chatter had stopped, and the wave of silence had washed out towards the lake and come back in carrying more and more excited chatter and shouting. John had rushed forward, throwing himself at the open gate, and had broken his nose in his haste to run through it when he had crashed into an invisible barrier, as if, for him, the gate had been still in place. Sam had been more cautious and soon looked like a mime in training, as did the adventurous half of the tourists around them. In the chaos Dean got shoved away from the gate and before long found himself outside in the courtyard. A woman who Dean later learned was Charlie’s mom, found him standing outside the temple, staring at it but not really seeing anything, and dragged him inside the cafe. She gave him a cup of cocoa, called her daughter to keep an eye on the boy, and went to the phone.

Not half an hour later, the mayor of the city and most of the city council arrived, half of them obviously hastily put together. With them came the police and what looked to Dean like half the town. Jody and Donna, deputies at the time, started herding the tourists out of the temple and brought them to the stairs that had been cordoned off by some of their colleagues. The visitors were told to leave the island and to return to the town, but naturally nobody listened. In the end, the amount of people on the stairs became a security issue and the fire department showed up and made the people return to town. 

The mayor went to talk to Dean and his father, and not much later Dean stood again in front of the gate. It was still open, but no matter who wanted to pass through, they did not get further than the threshold before they hit the invisible barrier. Draping the council all around Dean on one side and putting three people with cameras on the other side, the mayor asked Dean to try to pass through the gate. Part of him expected to crash into the barrier same as everyone else, but another part of him, the one that sent tingles up and down his spine, didn’t hesitate. 

Passing through the gate was anticlimactic. Dean felt the same wave of warmth as before, the same tingling that he always felt when ‘something’ was going on, but then he was in a short arched corridor with a short staircase in front of him. When he looked over his shoulder, he could see the mayor and his entourage gaping. John was fuming and only the breath of a hair away from screaming bloody murder. Sam glared at Dean, the perceived betrayal clear on his face. But for the first time, and maybe that was part of the magic of the place, Dean did not turn back when John ordered him outside, or when Sam threw his own (always so carefully-aimed) insults at him. Dean kept walking, went up the stairs and was greeted by a gentle, azure blue light. 

Dean later learned that after his disappearance down the corridor, things outside had devolved into chaos. His father had indeed started screaming bloody murder, Sam had taken off and, in the chaos, had managed to snag a seat on a boat and had disappeared in the town for two days without anybody knowing where he had gone. Jody had finally found him, hidden away in one of the many barns, when a farmer had started asking around whether anybody had seen the pup missing from his litter of prize-winning labradors. With Dean being the heir apparent to the temple’s long free high priest position, the owners of the summer camp had waved Sam’s fee and had taken him in for the time being. Jody had showed up daily and taken Sam to see the puppies, often enough to get the entire story out of him. Child services had shown up not much later. In the end, Bobby, an old friend of their father’s who lived not too far off had taken them in, although Dean did not spend too much time at his place. 

The news that the position in the temple had finally been filled after a couple of decades had spread fast and wide, and Dean’s photo had been splashed liberally across the newspapers despite him being a minor. John had not cared enough to do anything about it; in fact, he had declared he only had one son when the police caught wind of his colourful portfolio of tasks performed against the supernatural for the greater good. Child services made a case for mistreatment, which everybody expected to go through without protest from anybody except John. In the end, the case never actually made it into court, because John managed to wrap his car around a tree when he was speeding after spending the entire night at a bar. The autopsy revealed not only a blood alcohol level of just shy of 2%, but also a liver so close to giving up the ghost that the doctors wouldn’t have expected him to survive the year without receiving an immediate transplant. 

It became clear that Dean would not be able to finish high school in the normal way: it soon became obvious that it was impossible for him to physically attend class because of the stir it caused amongst students, the press and the general populace. In addition, John had been dragging them around the country for so many years that Dean had missed out on too many classes to just be able to get right back into it. In the end, the decision was made to have Dean home-schooled. That way he would also be free to study whatever he could about the island, the temple and his role there. 

Off the Antechamber, there was a small but high room that held the temple’s library. Given that magic had been used to conserve whatever the priests and priestesses had deemed important enough to be kept there, everything was in good condition even after what Dean suspected in some cases to be millennia of storage and use. A lot of historians would likely hack off their own leg for access to the chamber. None of the books, however, could be carried past the gate’s threshold, and Dean soon learned that modern means of information management were useless within the temple. Pirah herself would have to allow a book to be carried outside, but since she thought that Dean could study just as well within the inner part of the temple as outside of it, she saw no need for any of the books to go anywhere. 

Dean was expected to spend as much time on the island and especially in the temple as he could. As far as the goddess was concerned, Dean had come of age on his fifteenth birthday, but the mayor as well as Bobby and Dean himself had made the request - or in Dean’s case argued loudly and expressively - that that had been ages ago when people died at thirty, and that in the last couple millennia people had come to the conclusion that fifteen was not quite the age for people to start making important decisions all on their own. 

Also, in this day and age, education was the single most important thing to have, and Bobby flat out threatened to deny Dean coming here at all until he was 21 and legally allowed to drink if he didn’t at least finish high school. The mayor had echoed the sentiment that education was important and that Dean was very far from being of age in modern society, but he had done so in the most verbosely humble way possible. At least then Pirah had looked the part: a couple of years before she had snuck into the cinema and seen Excalibur and was sporting the entire fantasy Middle Ages get-up, including improbably long hair that was floating in the air around her as if she was perpetually under water. 

In the end the solution that everybody had been able to agree on was that Dean would get his high-school diploma, but be apprenticed to her at the same time. Once he came of age according to modern law, he would be free to start working, for lack of a better word, full-time as the high priest of the temple. On his eighteenth birthday, the entire town had put together a huge festival down at the lake, no matter that it was the middle of winter, that there were roughly two feet of snow and that half the lake had frozen over. 

When Dean had learned that the first part of the ceremony included him stepping into the water for a ritual washing and to call to the temple, Dean had been less than enthusiastic, critically eyeing the chunks of ice drifting past. Pirah had laughed and promised that he wouldn't feel a thing. Dean supposed it was some kind of test of faith as well, but when he had finally stepped into the water, it had indeed felt warm to his touch. He had submerged himself for a moment, then stood up again and, with raised hands, recited the vow and produced a bright ball of light that had pulsed to the island. A wave of light had pulsed from the island in return, travelling to the shore of the lake and lighting up the water. When the light had reached Dean, it had engulfed him and the next thing he knew he was swimming in the well of the Sanctissimum for the first time. Dean had cursed like a sailor while Pirah had laughed her head off. 

Footage of the event simply showed Dean disappearing in an arch of light that then retreated to the island. Moments later, the windows of the Antechamber blazed with light, widely visible like a beacon. The water directly around the island retained some of their glow until the next sunrise. When the boats with their painstakingly selected passengers made their way slowly and carefully across the lake for the second part of the ceremony, the water glowed along the boats and in bright swirls every time the paddles moved through it. Each boat left a trail of sparkling bubbles.

At the island, millions of lights floated in the air and amongst the empty branches of the trees. The staircase had been cleared from ice, but Dean had made sure it stay ice-free with magic himself as well. The delegation, amongst them Bobby and his family, a proud Sam, Jody and all of Dean’s closest friends as well as the council and a few others deemed important enough to be present, ascended the stairs in silence. The only sounds were their steps and the heavier breathing when they came to the top. The water was lapping gently at the quay below. It had started snowing, the snowflakes sparkling like countless diamonds as they mixed with the speckles of light floating all over the island like swarms of fireflies. The artificial lights and torches that had guided the boats had to stay on them, but the lights were enough to see clearly. The inside of the temple was similarly lit. The entrance to the Antechamber was flanked on both sides with huge disks on each of which a half-sphere of pale light rested. 

The mayor stepped forward and called to the goddess to send forth her chosen emissary, the new high priest of the island. As tradition demanded, he called three times. His first call, when he called as the mayor of the town, and his second call, when he called as a business man, went unanswered. Only when he called as a simple human, as a soul conscious of all things done and left undone, the half-spheres grew brighter and brighter until they lit up the entire hall. When Dean finally stepped through the gate, now dressed in the full robes and wearing the full regalia of the High Priest, the half-spheres flared even more brightly and rose until they were full spheres and detached from the plates to float in the air. Dean answered as Pirah’s High Priest, anointed by the goddess herself in her well, and asked for the mayor’s request. 

“Calm waters and winds for the town, and peace, prosperity and health for all who live in it," the mayor replied, following the lines of the ritual.

Dean granted the wish on Pirah’s behalf and the lights shot up into the sky to explode in cloud of fairy dust that settled all over the town, the lake and the valley with its surrounding hills and mountains. The mayor recognised Dean as the high priest, Dean promised to always be a link to the goddess and to be sympathetic to his fellow humans’ requests, and once Dean had spoken a simple blessing for everyone present, that marked the end of the official ceremony. Dean had thanked everyone for coming, magically lit the wood in the metal grills surrounding the little square in front of the temple, and declared the buffet open. Charlie lit the lights inside the cafe, and the party lasted until sunrise.

  
  



	5. The Town

They sat in silence and watched the boats go back and forth between the small harbour and the island.

“Knowing that the video is in fact not a fake makes it both more and less impressive at the same time," Castiel finally said. 

“How so?”

“Well, if it had been fake, then there would have been some seriously impressive CGI work in there, and to be honest, I was kind of looking forward to that sort of funding," Castiel said.

Dean huffed in mock outrage but didn’t say anything.

“On the other hand, knowing that it’s real, there is obviously less CGI and tourism funding impressiveness to be had, but in exchange there’s some seriously impressive magic stuff going on," Castiel smiled. “Can you always do the beaming thing?”

“The beaming thing?” Dean echoed, staring at Castiel. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from, glittery lights and disappearing in them and all of that, that’s some A+ Scotty Beam Me Up right there, true, but man, Star Trek was all about science and there was explicitly no magic involved in any beaming whatsoever!”

“Trust me, Dean, I know the kind of science Star Trek dealt with," Castiel said dryly. “Anna was a huge fan and we had to watch it all the time. Personally I think that was because she had a serious crush on Mr. Spock.” 

“Good taste, though.”

“I’m more a fan of young Captain Kirk.”

“Original or Reboot?”

“There’s a reboot?”

“Oh my God, Cas," Dean laughed. “Yeah, there is, there are three movies out already.”

“Oh.” Castiel looked perplexed. “Anna must have grown out of that phase then because she never mentioned them.”

Dean snorted. 

“Just for the record, both Captains are hot, but the reboot’s captain’s dad is hotter.”

“I didn’t know you’d be down for older men, Dean. I’m afraid I’m not that much older than you. Will that kick me out of the running?”

“Jesus, Cas, he was young in the reboot, it was before the actual thing happened!”

“Good to know. Since I’m only a few years older than you I would have been loath to learn that this would have ruined my chances.”

Dean gaped at Cas.

“Cas, you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why?” Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Is it not good form to declare one’s intentions, and to be open about one’s interests and feelings?”

Dean was stumped for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess," he shrugged. “Well, then in the interest of open communication channels, I should inform you that I would not have held your younger than my grandpa age against you. I quite like the way you look.”

“You do?” Castiel asked slyly.

“I meant age-wise!”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. 

“But yeah, the way you look apart from that as well.”

“Do you usually get a lot of compliments about your eyes, Dean? Because I quite fancy writing a sonnet about the exact shade of green, but I feel that might have been done before.”

Dean laughed.

“Yes, people do say cheesy things about my eyes, but I’ll go out on a limb and say you’re no stranger to eye-based compliments either.”

Cas inclined his head, conceding the point. 

“Touché.”

“I haven’t received a sonnet about them yet," Dean went on, “and I have to say, it’s an intriguing idea. I do have discerning taste though, so it better be good.”

Dean winked. 

“You do?”

“Did English in college," Dean grinned. “Didn’t expect that, did you now, Mister Tourism Expert. Minor in mythology and world religions.”

“When did you manage to go to college with all the stuff you had going on here?” Cas asked, incredulous but obviously impressed.

“I finished high-school early, something nobody would have expected when they saw how far back I’d fallen, but with no other people to distract me and with the time and support to work on stuff as I needed… it kind of worked and I realised I actually enjoyed things. The year I turned eighteen there was so much stuff going on that college simply wasn't on the agenda; you wouldn't believe how many duties and things are attached to being the high priest of even a small temple. It was a lot to get used to and to learn to deal with, even though I had had time to grow into it. Charlie helped a lot too, set up the website for the temple and everything.” 

That had been shortly after her mother’s death. Helping Dean had helped Charlie distract herself, but it had also brought them closer together. Charlie had become the younger sister he’d always wanted but never had. Sam had been coming around by the time Dean had become the high priest officially, but they had still been on tentative footing. Sam was still trying to make up for that, but Dean wasn’t sure that talking the entire town into electing a mayor straight out of law school was helping that. 

“Anyway, I went the year after. I came home every chance I had, mostly at least every second weekend, and every break. Took online classes whenever possible. Were a tough few years.”

“I imagine," Castiel murmured. “I was impressed with you already, Dean, but knowing that you somehow managed to pull this off too… You are incredible, Dean; I hope you know that.”

Dean blushed, but he would be lying if he denied feeling pleased about Cas’ compliment.

“Thanks, Cas.”

When it got time to leave for the meeting, Dean waited until Castiel had pulled on his shoes again. They ambled along the shoreline.

“So it doesn’t scare you off, the whole being the high priest thing?” Dean forced himself to ask. He had to know and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get a single night of calm sleep until he did. 

“No, it doesn’t," Castiel reassured him, and Dean wondered why he had ever doubted that. He knew he was falling in love, faster than he had ever thought possible, but instead of feeling scared, it was exhilarating.

The meeting took place in the council chambers and by the time Dean and Castiel got there, most of the council and the tourist board were already present. Sam waved them in enthusiastically and motioned for them to sit down next to him.

The meeting itself was not boring as such, but it was a meeting and that meant it did drudge on for longer than anybody wanted and longer to reach any conclusions and compromises than anyone had expected. Castiel was welcomed to the town and to the city council as the new director of the tourist board. 

He gave a presentation on his ideas for the region and what his ideas were for dealing with the unsupportable number of people descending on the town in summer. There was a fair amount of winter sports going on too due to the surrounding mountains, but compared to the mayhem of summer that was a negligible number. Castiel focused on making the tourism more environmentally viable, presenting possible destinations in the surrounding area which could divert the never ending stream of visitors a little. Increasing prices was an idea some of the council were rather fond of, but Castiel pointed out that this would mean local people would have to pay more for their daily necessities. 

Mentioning the example of Venice, he explained the danger of allowing tourist amenities to become more financially viable than maintaining the infrastructure needed for the locals - in Venice selling souvenirs had become more interesting for vendors than selling foods and daily necessities to locals. St. Mary’s Harbour was not yet suffering from any food deserts, but one issue St. Mary’s Harbour did have was parking. If there were an official parking ticket for locals that automatically restricted visitors from parking in those spaces, the flood of course could be gradually forced outside the town. If there was relatively inexpensive parking outside town with a free shuttle bus for the people parking at the official lot, that would have the additional benefit of also reducing the traffic going through town. 

When Castiel came to the part on advertising, he shot an apologetic look at Dean and explained that he had only learned this afternoon that what he had assumed to be very well made special effects were actually genuine magic. He didn’t think that the advertising part would change much, except maybe that the focus should actually be on the fact that St. Mary’s Harbour was the real deal - depending of course on what the High Priest and the Lady of the Lake felt comfortable with.

“My bad," Sam explained, mortified and decidedly pink in the face. 

Everybody was very impressed with Castiel’s presentation, and the entire group moved to the bar two streets over for celebratory drinks and dinner.

Dean watched Castiel accept one round after the other - everybody wanted to buy him a drink, and Castiel clearly felt he couldn't say no and offend anybody by rejecting their drink. Apparently Castiel knew how much he could take though, and that he could take a lot, because even after four beers and three shots of the local witches brew that claimed to be schnapps, he was still no worse for wear. 

Dean was in deep consideration whether he should buy Cas a drink - the conundrum being one, what drink, and two, he would have to buy a round for everyone, and although he knew it was childish, he didn’t want to buy everyone a drink, he wanted to buy Cas a drink. Like, buy a drink buy a drink. Dean shook his head at himself.  _ Way to be ridiculous, Winchester. Why don't you give him a scrap of paper and have him tick yes, no, maybe.  _ If Pirah could see him now, and who was he kidding, he knew she could see him if she wanted, and given that he appeared to be her prime and primary source of amusement, she likely was watching him, she’d be literally rolling on the floor laughing. Probably laughing tears. 

Dean was still deep in his thoughts and staring at Cas, when Donna suddenly had the idea that Dean should properly welcome Cas as well, by which Donna apparently meant that Dean should perform magic tricks with their drinks.

“I’m not a trained dog doing tricks, Donna," Dean huffed. And then made Donna’s very pink cocktail jump out of her glass and into her hair, where it spread until all of it was just as pink as her drink had been. 

“Mature, Dean, real mature," Donna said, ineffectually trying to wring some of the drink out of her hair. From the twitching of her mouth Dean could tell that she was in equal parts annoyed and amused. The group around them laughed at their antics.

“Last time he did that to me, he left the blue colour in for the better part of the month," Sam said. “I had to go back to law school with my hair the same colour as the lake.”

“What did you do so he would colour your hair blue?” Castiel asked, grinning.

“Why does everybody always assume that I did something?” Sam complained.

“Because you usually did, hon," came Ellen’s voice from three tables over.

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation.

“That one time I threw a pair of my jeans in with his white washing.”

“And the time you put salt in his sugar box.”

“Or the time you put green colour in his shampoo…”

“Oh! Or the time you drilled a hole into his boat!”

“The one with the screw in the Impala’s tank had Dean despairing over whatever was rattling in his baby for days.”

“I think my favourite is the one where you put mustard into all his shoes.”

“Personally, I thought it was hilarious when he lined the insides of all of Dean’s robes with glitter.”

“It is surprising he got elected as mayor, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s impressive that an entire town can have such a heavy lack of judgement at exactly the same time.”

“If I didn’t know there were wards around the cabins, one might think that it was magic that made them do it…”

“But the only person around here capable of doing that would be me, and it would have been in my interest to keep him from getting the position, wouldn’t it," Dean pointed out. 

“Alright, alright, I get it, thank you, people, you can stop that now," Sam said and tried to get people to let go of their new bone.

The friendly bickering and ribbing continued on far into the night. Between baskets of onion rings, chicken wings and tiny barbecue sticks made of vegetables - “Seriously, Sam?” - more beer was consumed. 

Once it was dark outside, it didn’t take long for Dean’s lake-faring friends to join the group. Hans talked Castiel into taste-testing the local varieties of schnapps , which lead to Benny challenging them into a contest of who could demolish a firecracker fastest. Ellen brought three pints and three shots of limoncello, a strong, citrus-flavoured liqueur, and, with an eye-roll agreed to be the impartial judge. The crowd gathered around them in a half-circle around the bar as they dumped the liqueur into the beer. Everybody picked the most likely winner, and bets were placed. 

On Ellen’s count of three, Benny, Hans and Cas raised their glasses and started drinking. Benny was the undefeated champion, and when Castiel came in first, finishing with an almighty burp that had everybody in stitches and made him light up like a tomato with embarrassment, everybody cheered as loudly as they could, Dean the loudest of them all. He threw himself around Cas’ neck and before he could reign himself in again, Dean gave Cas a resounding smack right onto his lips. 

They both stared at each other for a moment while the crowd around them cheered even more loudly. It took Dean a little to be sure, and Cas very obviously had the same problem, trying not to get things wrong, but then their surprise melted into open delight. Dean would forever swear up and down that he had not giggled. Castiel would forever agree with him, saying that no, Dean had actually squealed. Which would offend Dean so much he’d start arguing that he had only giggled at most. Which Castiel would agree with. 

After their showdown, Hans and Benny were decidedly tipsy, and Castiel surprisingly steady on his feet. 

“College, Dean,” he explained with a wry grin. “College and two brothers who measure alcohol in bottles, not in glasses. The one who passed out first inevitably ended up with dicks drawn on their face, and that was probably the most harmless thing that ever happened.”

“Did that happen to you a lot? Are there pictures?” Dean sniggered. 

“I made it my goal to never pass out before my brothers, if I could help it,” Cas primly replied. Then he grinned. “Being the tallest worked in my favour against Gabriel, and being the only one to regularly exercise gave me an edge on Balthazar.”

Dean gave him an incredulous look. “Balthazar? Like, one of the three mages?”

“What, Balthazar makes you go ‘what’ but Castiel was fine? And no, like the angel,” Castiel corrected. He shrugged. “Our parents had a thing for angels,” he added drily. 

Dean shrugged. “I was too concerned with how hot you were and not jumping you right then and there to wonder much about your name.”

Castiel hummed. “That could have turned out to be quite embarrassing for both of us if you hadn’t kept at least the short version in mind, given that I was considering my options how best to make you scream it.”

Dean choked on his next sip of beer and Castiel kept hitting Dean on his back to help him recover. 

“Oh dear,” Castiel said, “I do hope swallowing is not always such a problem.”

Dean coughed even more loudly. “You’ll pay for that, Novak,” he rasped. “And if it’s the last thing I’m doing.”

“Before you come?” Cas winked. “I’ll look forward to that then.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re a menace, Cas. A public menace. Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Castiel considered. “I do think I feel a slight tingling in my fingers.”

“Oh my god, Cas, you did not just quote Legolas to me,” Dean said, obviously caught somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. 

“I am not the most socially adept person, but I usually manage to maintain a certain level of professionalism. It would appear that large quantities of alcohol remove my head-to-mouth filter though,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“A menace indeed,” Dean said and kissed Cas again.

Before things could get any further than a very much safe for work peck on the lips, Dean’s friends and, as soon as they realised that the local high priest was present, the rest of the pub’s patrons started pestering Dean for magic tricks. Dean kept declining, more for show than actual resentment, and finally, with a long-suffering sigh for the crowd and a wink for Cas, he agreed. 

“Is it always like that?” Castiel asked Sam.

“When people realise Dean’s here? Yeah, pretty much. Especially the tourists, but mostly when Dean’s in civvies they don’t actually recognise him. And if he’s dressed to the nines and performing a ceremony, they are usually too shy to go pester him,” Sam chuckled. “The local kids are much more likely to. I don’t think he minds much, though, especially with the children and friends.”

“Dean seems like a very generous person,” Castiel offered.

Sam frowned. “He is, much more so than he’d say himself. Too much, sometimes, I think. I think he has a hard time remembering to look after himself first.”

“I could see that,” Castiel agreed softly. “Becoming the high priest can’t have been easy for him.”

“It wasn’t.” Sam pulled a face. “I didn’t help either, not as much as I should have anyway, and not when he would have needed it. To be honest, I think it’s been good for him though. Pirah keeps him… grounded, strange as that may sound. I haven’t met her all that often, not face to face, but I think she genuinely cares about Dean, and she’s got enough of a taking-no-shit attitude to remind him to take care of himself as well, even when he doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You appear much more relaxed talking about a timeless being with no real physical form but almost limitless powers than that would appear to warrant.”

Sam’s thoughtful face dissolved into a fond smile. “It’s hard to think of her as a timeless, faceless, all-powerful being when she’s dumping a bowl of noodle soup over Dean’s head because he made a joke about worshipping the Great Noodle Monster.” He side-eyed Castiel and grinned. “You don’t seem convinced. But don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll meet her pretty soon and that she’ll like you.”

Castiel pondered that for a moment. 

“Any tips for when that happens?” 

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Whatever form she happens to be in? Ignore it. She likes throwing people off. Just keep in mind that people focus on the fertility and earth aspects and all that since she’s the local goddess and good crops and clement weather were just what people prayed for, especially this far up in the mountains. However, if you dig more deeply into the lore? She might be taking care of nature around here because she likes the place and the people, but at her core, she’s as much if not more of a trickster than anything else.” 

“The buses running out of fuel,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, amongst other things. Frankly, I’m not surprised at all that Dean and Pirah hit if off the way they did. They can be pretty scary. And I’m not talking about the powerful goddess and her high priest kind of scary.” Sam pursed his lips. “Don’t tell him that, but ever since Dean’s become the high priest, I’ve been trying to avoid prank wars - Pirah considers herself Team Dean and there’s just no winning against an ancient trickster goddess.”

“Well then,” Castiel raised the pint he’d been nursing, “let us hope that Dean and Pirah never meet Gabriel, because that sounds like one unholy trinity if there ever was one.”

Sam laughed, but the second they wanted to touch their bottles together, the liquid shot out of it and hovered over their heads like misshapen SIMS-crystals. 

“What the-,” Castiel started, looking around wildly. The same thing was happening with all drinks all over the room. People started applauding as the globes of liquid mimicked the faces of the owners of the drinks, created tiny bubbling, amber-coloured portraits. Only Sam’s didn’t turn into a face - his turned into a tiny moose. 

Sam pulled a face. “Haha, very funny.” He stuck his tongue out at Dean. The moose did as well. The guests laughed and took some photos. 

Dean found Cas and blushed horribly when his eyes darted to Cas’ drink floating over his head. Cas looked up as well. His beer was now a heart. 

“I can already tell you’re a sap,” Castiel said, feeling warm all over. Dean shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. There was also some trepidation, which Castiel did not want to see there at all. “I like it.” It was almost comical how relieved Dean looked, and Castiel felt a prick of sorrow for whatever had made Dean believe it could be warranted. “I like it a lot.”

And since he could think of no better way to show Dean how much he, in fact, did like it, Castiel proceeded to kiss Dean.

  
  



	6. The Well

After the meeting and the subsequent evening and night at the Roadhouse, Dean and Cas… kept drifting around each other, Dean would say. They had exchanged numbers at the pub and had blown the three-day-rule by texting each other good night the moment they had said goodbye when Dean had insisted on walking Castiel home. There had been a very Pleasantville good-night kiss, they had both blushed some more, and promised to see each other soon.

Soon had been dinner the next day.

And then lunch the day after.

In short, it didn’t take them all that long to start dating properly, but long enough for half the town’s population to breathe a sigh of relief that the two of them were finally, officially going out with each other. Their relief turned out to be somewhat short-lived, however, when Dean and Cas were, how Sam referred to it, making heart-eyes at each other all the rest of the time as well anyway. Charlie bluntly called it eye-fucking and Hans watched them once for two minutes, shuddered, and decided that he’d rather go and take care of his two diaper-poopers.

Dean, for his part, agonised for days about where he should take Cas on their first date. By the time he had settled on taking Cas up to the most postcard-esque viewpoints of the town on one of the surrounding mountains, he and Cas had already been on numerous lunch dates and dinner dates and spending-time-together dates, but as Dean kept stressing, those were simple hangouts amongst friends, albeit friends that were dating, but definitely, absolutely, not dates per se. Their first real date, now with the official status of being a couple, should be somewhere special. Taking Cas to the temple seemed too intimate for a first date, going to a bar not intimate enough.

The viewpoint appeared to be a nice middle ground with the added benefit of showing off the place where Cas would hopefully decide to spend the rest of his life - _getting a little over-enthusiastic there, Winchester, dial it back, don’t scare the guy off_ \- to its best advantage. Another clear point in favour of the plan was that the path was quite narrow in places and that would mean walking behind each other, which would, at least at times, put Dean in an excellent position to appreciate Cas’ very perky posterior. And showing off his own perky posterior could only help in getting Cas onboard with the entire rest of his life stuff,  anyway.

To Dean’s eternal annoyance, Sam somehow decided that showing Cas the viewpoint where the photos for the actual postcards of the city were taken would be an excellent chance to get Cas’ input on a few more PR shots of the lake.

“The weather is fantastic, Dean, you can see to the furthest peaks today, and I frankly can’t remember the sky ever having been quite this blue,” Sam gushed, striding up the mountain in big, enthusiastic steps.

“You don’t say,” Dean bit out.

“We should seize the day and  have you as the local high priest on the postcard as well!” Sam added, flushed with excitement, once they had reached the top.

Dean was very much committed to not being on any postcards at all ever.

Garth, the local photographer and almost invisible under his giant rucksack full of equipment, beamed up at Dean. “Sam suggested bringing a robe for you, so I got a golden one from the costume store to keep with the theme of a golden summer.”

Thankfully, right before Garth could start unpacking the camera, the weather changed as if a switch had been flipped.

“The weather is horrible, Dean, the fog’s so thick you can’t even see ten feet ahead, and I frankly can’t remember the sky opening in up in a downpour this heavy quite as quickly,” Sam groused, rain dripping into his eyes from his too long hair.

“You don’t say,” Dean deadpanned.

None of them having brought an umbrella, they all had to huddle under Dean’s jacket - which was a futile endeavour given that they were four grown men (Sam and Garth averaged at two normal grown men), and that they still had to get down a mountain. Had it just been Dean and Cas doing the huddling, Dean would not have minded at all. He silently applauded Pirah’s foresight and for once could have appreciated her obsession with tropy as fuck romance novels that Dean definitely didn’t read as well and for which they definitely hadn’t started a bi-personal book club.  

“An exceedingly _localised_ shower, Dean, one could think it was almost magical given just _how_ localised it was,” Sam growled at Dean later, once Sam had managed to reactivate his soaked cell phone and had realised that the rain had more or less only covered the lake area.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean proclaimed.

Castiel did pick up on Dean being very unhappy with how their first real date had literally and metaphorically gone down the drain. They both needed to dry off and Cas invited Dean to come up to his apartment, offering a towel and a cup of hot chocolate. In the end, they had their actual first date while huddled together - only the two of them now, thank goddess - on Cas’ sofa, watching Dr. Sexy, and making out between sips of hot chocolate.

One Saturday, a few weeks later and the night before the fire festival, Dean took him to the market and introduced him to everyone and towed him from one of his favourite stalls to the next, doing his best to get Castiel to try everything. The owners of the stall equally tried to do their best to get Castiel to try everything, glancing from Dean to Cas, exchanging sly glances with each other, and doubling their efforts once they’d concluded that, while it was great to be on good terms with the director of the tourist board, it could never hurt to be on even better terms with the high-priest’s very likely future consort.

Balancing various bags of edible deliciousness - in equal measure bought and bestowed upon them by business-savvy stall owners - Dean and Cas finally ambled towards the harbour, chatting about the market and how Cas had liked his first week. One of the thatched boats was almost full and just about ready to leave. With Dean and Cas, the maximum number of passengers  was reached and the captain of the small craft explained the safety precautions while untying the knots. He jumped onto the platform in the rear of the boat and with long, swinging motions, started pushing the boat towards the island.

“They were bribing me, weren’t they,” Castiel asked Dean, when they looked back at the town and the market.

Dean grinned sheepishly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Cas raised an eyebrow.

Dean deflated. “Yeah, kinda,” he admitted. “They just want you to feel welcome!” he hastened to add. “I mean you are the new director of the tourist board. Tourism is important around here, it’s one of the main sources of income for a lot of people.”

Cas snorted. “And it’s got nothing to do with you?”

“Maybe a little,” Dean winked. “They think if you’re happy with them, I’ll be happy with them, and consequently Pirah will be happy with them, and bless them with a good harvest of whatever kind they’re thinking of.”

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the soft lap-lap-lap of the water against the wooden hull of their boat, watching the town and the harbour recede one paddle-swing at a time. The long, thin branches of the willow trees along the promenade were swaying gently in the soft breeze, like upside down seagrass. Where they were close enough to the shore to hang into the water, the branches appeared endless, continuing seamlessly into their reflections. Behind the town, the mountains rose startlingly abrupt, towering like a series of ragged walls in the middle distance. Their rocky summits glinted in the warm sun of the late morning.

Cas had visited the island once already, but only as a normal tourist, when he had first come to the town and before he had been officially hired. It felt right for Dean to take Castiel to the island with him now, to show him what had become his home over the last couple of years. As the boat reached the island’s small quay at the side of the island that was closer to the town, the tourists immediately took off on the small forest path leading around the island and to the stairs on the other side. Dean thanked their captain, and lead Cas towards a smaller, much steeper staircase hidden behind an outcrop of rocks that lead them directly up to the top. The stairs ended on a tiny square half behind the café’s building and the temple.

The closer they were getting to the top, the more nervous Dean felt: he was planning to take Cas to the Gate, but a thought had been niggling in the back of his mind for days now: if Cas had visited the island like any other tourist before, and if he had stood in front of the Gate, why had he not been allowed entry? Dean had been too much of a chicken to give the answer too much thought, and had kept himself sane by trying to convince himself that Cas simply might not have stood in front of the gate. He had kept putting actually asking Cas off and off and off, and now, finally, time had run out and he was showing Cas around the temple.

They were walking through the public room of the temple, small and simple, but the decorations that were there were exquisit, molded directly from the stone, and just this side of intricate that the impossibility of having been created by mortal hands was plainly there for everyone to see. The small windows were relatively high up on the walls, with the back of the building having been hewn from the rock itself, but the sun poured in in impossible angles, in reflections directly from the water below, painting ever shifting waves of turquoise light on the slightly domed ceiling. The entire room felt as if it were underwater, with the ceiling as the surface above.

In the middle of the room, there was a small fountain, a thigh-high column of stone from which water poured into a shallow basin below. Simple, wooden stools with flat cushions in all shades of blue and green were arranged in concentric circles around it. In the twilight of the room, the faint glow of the water was enough to illuminate the wonder on Cas’ face, and Dean wanted to do nothing more than kiss him.

Cas turned towards Dean and smiled at him.

“This place is amazing, Dean.”

“There is somewhere else I’d like to take you,” Dean murmured.

Cas cocked his head, but then his eyes widened when he understood.

“Dean-” he started to protest, but Dean quickly motioned him to stop, pointedly glancing at the other people. Cas nodded. Dean took him by the hand and led him outside again. Dean dodged the café and pulled Cas up to his apartment.

“It’s amazing they don’t recognise you, even if you’re right there,” Castiel wondered, when Dean closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged. “They usually don’t, but there’s also this small thing about being able to pass unseen that’s one of the many perks of being a high priest.”

Castiel frowned. “You don’t sound as thrilled by that as I would have suspected you’d be.”

Dean gave him a weak smile. “Trust me, when I first learned about it and how to use it, nothing in the town was safe - you should ask Sam about a couple of the pranks I pulled.” Dean sobered up again quickly. “Cas… I… I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but… I was too chicken to do it, so I kept putting it off. But. When you came here the first time, did you… I mean, did you…”

“I did, Dean,” Castiel cut in, both apologetic and distinctly sad. “If you were about to ask whether I stood in front of the Gate, Dean, yes, I did. It did not open.”

Dean’s face fell, his shoulders slumped as if all strings had been cut.

“I see… I’m sorry, Cas. I was so sure…” Dean trailed off, distraught.

“It’s ok, Dean,” Castiel tried to reassure him. “It would have been lovely to see _your_ part of the temple, but it’s alright, Dean, it really is, if you’re alright with it that I can’t follow you there. I’ll always be there waiting for you when you come back out.”

Dean gave Castiel a long look. They both realised what Castiel had just said, but neither of them wanted to analyse this just yet - neither that Castiel would be waiting, nor that he knew that Dean would come back to him. Dean crashed into Cas in a fierce hug, pressing his face into Cas’ neck. Castiel hugged back just as hard.

They spent the afternoon sitting on the small terrace of the café, working their way through Charlie’s inventively named coffees, and chatting with her whenever she had time in between serving customers.

In the evening, Dean went up to his apartment and changed into the robes for a public evening ceremony. Castiel sat in attendance, smiling as he watched Dean bless the water in the fountain, and then levitate a huge sphere of glowing water above it. He divided it into smaller and smaller cubes that floated all around the room like millions of tiny stars until it looked as if the Milky Way itself had poured in through the windows. At the end, the tiny spheres exploded into sparkling miniature clouds, and for a moment the entire room looked like a white-out in a snowstorm, filled as it was with a thick, incandescent mist. Dean closed his eyes and felt the vaporised drops settle against his skin, silky and cool, refreshing him on every level of his being.

When Dean dismissed the congregation, both a few locals from town and tourists, drifted out of the room in trance-like silence, their faces shining with wonder and reverence. Castiel stayed behind by the door.

“I love you,” he said when Dean came over to him.

Dean ducked his head, blushing furiously at the earnest tone of Cas’ voice and the soft look in his eyes.

“You cannot just spring that on me Cas, I-”

Cas kissed him.

And kept kissing him.

And kept kissing him some more.

When they finally broke apart, Dean’s whispered “I love you, too” seemed loud in the room.

“I still need to do the small evening ritual,” Dean said.

“And I’ll wait for you right here,” Castiel answered.

They walked over to the Gate.

“The detail in the wings is amazing,” Castiel said, stepping in front of the Gate. He touched one of the shimmering feathers.  “They seem almost ali-”

With a rustling noise, the wings folded back and shifted to the side, revealing the corridor and the staircase to the Antechamber.

“... Dean?” Castiel breathed.

He turned around. Dean was a solid two steps behind him, mouth agape and eyes like saucers.

“This wasn’t because of me, Cas,” Dean said.

“Then how…?” Cas asked, confusion obvious in every feature of his face.

“I have no idea-” Dean started. Stopped.

Blinked.

Blinked again.

Then he literally facepalmed.

“Pirah,” he huffed, halfway between a laugh and groan. In the end, amusement won out - Dean tried for a second, but then realised he frankly could not be mad when so much pure joy and happiness was bubbling up inside of him. When he saw Castiel’s ever growing confusion, the laughter finally bubbled over. When Castiel was obviously tipping from confusion to concern, Dean had to laugh even harder.

“Pirah,” he wheezed. “I should be mad as fuck, but hell, I just… Come on, I think I have a very good idea of what just happened, but after what she’s put us through, she can bloody well explain it herself.”

He grabbed Cas’ hand and dragged him into the passage and up the stairs.

“Dean!” Castiel shouted and braced against the expected impact against an invisible wall. It only made Dean grin harder. “Dean, what’s going on?!”

“You’ll see in a sec,” Dean said, breathless. “Welcome to the Antechamber.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open and he could only stare. Suddenly feeling inexplicably shy, Dean went about lighting the candle, hesitating whether he should still just go about it with Cas present.

“WILL YOU JUST GET ON WITH IT!!” Pirah’s voice hollered up the well. Cas squeaked and reached out towards Dean. Dean winced. “I’ve been waiting for you two idiots to come down here the entire afternoon!”

Meeting Cas’ huge eyes, Dean shrugged. “Well, that was Pirah. We better get on with it.”

And on with it Dean got. He lit the candle, did not preen under Cas’ amazed and adoring gaze, and then led him down the stairs into the Well.

They were greeted by Pirah, now in the shape of a giant oyster with cartoony bobble eyes on top, floating above the water.

“I did tell you something was to show up shortly,” she clattered, the two halves of the shell opening and closing as she as talking. “Also, just to remind you, you are very welcome to go at it in the well, you know. In fact, it would be quite advantageous for the lake, and the surrounding lands, too, if that helps - the well hasn’t been, well, ‘watered’ in a while, if you get my drift.” One of the googly eyes rolled over and righted itself again in what Dean assumed was meant to be a whink. Pirah turned to Cas. “Dean has refused to have his personal time in the pool as well, -”

“I can’t imagine why,” Dean interjected.

“-even though I promised not to look.”

Cas looked a little overwhelmed.

“Cain had no problem getting into the pool with Colette, in fact, I was always happy to join,” Pirah pouted.

Dean facepalmed.

Cas looked like he wanted to bolt.

“I’m very unhappy with modern decency laws,” Pirah declared.

“Yeah, well, I’m very unhappy with the entire thing about Cas and the Gate,” Dean countered.

Pirah smirked. It was very disconcerting to see an oyster smirk.

“But Dean, that’s the part you always love best in those lovely little books we read-”

“I said I loved _reading_ it, not _living through_ it!”

“Details,” Pirah shrugged, waving the argument ago. “In any case, I didn’t pick Castiel as a priest, he is your consort. So _obviously_ I didn’t open the door when he showed up as a visitor the first time around. But I _did_ tell you somebody was going to pop up very soon!”

“Still woulda been nice to know,” Dean grumbled.

“I am your consort?” Castiel asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Argh, shut up, shut up the both of you,” Dean groused.

“But I’d love to be your consort,” Castiel teased, slinging an arm around Dean’s waist.

Dean blinked at Cas, narrowing his eyes. “Are you proposing?”

“Wh-what?” Castiel was blushing furiously and apparently doing his best deer in the headlights impression. Dean gave it a nine out of ten.

There was a loud smack as Pirah the Oyster belly-bombed the water.

“Oh my precious clear waters, you two idiots are even more nauseating up close,” she whined, making fake gagging noises. A pearl the size of Dean’s head plunked into the water. “I’ll leave you to it. No peeking, I promise.”

And with that the oyster disappeared in the water amidst a small tornado of bubbles.

Dean looked at Cas.

“Well, this is Pirah. Still want to stick around?”

“Show me your cave, Dean,” Cas answered, eyes twinkling.

Dean groaned. “Oh my god, Cas, this was just… I have no words. I think you’ve reached rock bottom.”

“Frankly, I think I’d rather top, at least the first time, but I’m happy switching.” Dean facepalmed. Cas smirked. “You have to admit, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“Cas!”

Cas burst out laughing. And things were back to normal between them. Not that they had been off, but after the relief about everything, really everything, including this big part of Dean’s life, being alright and not a problem, finally sunk in, the giggles never receded far beneath the surface. Castiel almost tore a muscle when he saw the bubble chair for the first time. Then Dean was in stitches when he suggested Cas could top from the bottom while sitting on the bubble chair, which lead to a weirdly scientific discussion whether there was any way to make that work with the bubble chair while actually on the water. In the end, however, they found themselves sitting on a patch of rock that Dean had magically dried and warmed, huddled close together, talking about anything and everything. Cas asked about the ceremony Dean had performed earlier today and about the floating water. Dean smiled.

“That is not actually the magic part, not really - I mean the water in itself is magical, that’s not a secret. Especially not when it’s coming directly from the well. The floating and exploding is not just show, it does help in getting peeps into as much contact with the water as possible. It’s really not just shiny lights, even though there would be other, less impressive ways to bestow a blessing. But it’s like food, isn’t it, the nicer it looks, the better it tastes…? I’m not saying this well.”

“No, I think I get it. Do you mean like a placebo? The more people believe, the more it helps, irrespective of the ceremony’s actual power.”

Dean considered for a moment. “You’re not wrong, it’s probably part of it. I mean, presentation, right? Megamind? No? Nothing? Never mind.” He thought for another second. “But also, mostly, why not make it look cool if you can? Why not use magic if you can? As long as it’s not just a spectacle and nothing more, why not bring as much magic into it as you can? The more people are touched by magic, the more they can feel it themselves, and there is precious little of it in the world anyway.”

Cas was half-leaning against one of the stalagmites and Dean shuffled over to the water, sitting down cross-legged right next to the shore. He pulled some water into the air and started making shapes - a butterfly, a jellyfish, a squirrel, an elephant, a deer, and finally, blushing and ducking his shoulders because at heart Dean was apparently a sixteen-year-old teenager, a heart. The animals glowed in the same surreal blue of the lake, but the heart he let shine in a bright pink and let it float towards Cas. At least Cas was just as pink as the heart.

 

 

He let it burst just over Cas head. Half growling and half laughing, Cas threw himself at him and tackled him to the ground. They made out for ages, under the soft light of the stalagtites and the water. Dean couldn’t say how long. He coaxed the cave into warming up to a more cosy temperature, but in the end they agreed unanimously that things would be more comfortable if they moved to Dean’s bed.

  



	7. Epilogue: The Island

A few weeks later, at the night of the last full moon of summer, the Floating Fires Festival took place. Dean was wearing his full regalia, a long toga in a shimmering midnight blue and wide, billowy black trousers. Those always reminded him of hakama, the traditional trousers worn in Kendo or Aikido. He liked them a lot. Dean also donned a gold band, worn on his hat like a royal circlet, in addition to the golden rope he always used as a belt. 

Castiel was completely floored by the ceremony and even more so by Dean in his robes. Dean had a moment of panic when he wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to concentrate on the ceremony with Cas staring at Dean as if he were his next meal. Dean thanked the stars and the moon that his clothes were very baggy and hid a lot, and that the weather was already cool enough with the mountains so close that he had a cape as well, especially one that closed in the front. 

The lake was filled with boats, lampions and lanterns everywhere, swimming on the water, hanging off railings and floating through the sky, and everything again reflected in the mirror-smooth surface of the lake below. No matter how many boats, there would be no ripple, no wave, no splashing water this night: the full moon bathed in the water, lighting the lake up to its deepest point, and the Well sang. 

After that first summer, Castiel and Dean stayed together and did their best to build a life. It wasn’t always easy, because everybody had their own opinions, ideas and dreams, but they somehow made it work. Dean gave up his apartment in the town and Cas basically moved in with Dean on the island, but they did keep Castiel’s apartment for when they wanted to stay in the town together, or for when Castiel needed to travel somewhere else, like the airport. 

They kept sitting on walls and talking about everything and nothing, and whenever Castiel was up early enough and had time, he accompanied Dean when he performed his priestly duties. They spent a lot of time with Pirah down by her well, and later, when Castiel fell in love with the mountains once he had had time to go up there, Pirah started taking him to different mountain tops that would have been impossible to reach otherwise.

Pirah also started spending more time in the city. It was a blessing and a curse because nothing delighted Pirah more than telling tourists crap about the island and its goddess.

It took Cas a little to get used to the flippant way Pirah acted, but he was still thrown by Pirah talking very, very frankly about a variety fertility stuff, them having sex in the pool, and her offering to teach Dean some special magic to ‘help things along’, while in the form of a unicorn, a giant carp in a floating sphere of glowing water, and an olm, respectively. 

Dean begged Pirah to change into something different from a tiny but long, white, eye-less scale-less dragon-lizard that looked like a dick because it was so creepy. 

“This is an olm, Dean, a very rare and special species, it is a native of these caves!”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to get sex tips from a slimy lizard that looks like a dick!”

“The olm is quite fascinating, actually, it is blind and can live up to a hundred years with a meal only every ten years,” Cas said. Both Dean and Pirah stared at him. “What? I’m the director of the tourist board, I did my research.” 

Pirah squealed in delight and threw herself at Cas in a bid to give him the world’s most awkward embrace. Dean stepped between her and Cas, careful not to step  _ on _ her. 

“I still say that this looks like a very thin, very pale, very,  _ very  _ creepy dick!”

In revenge, Pirah changed into an actual, huge-ass fire-breathing dragon with wings just to fuck with Dean. Only metaphorically, to Dean’s eternal gratitude and relief, although he did suspect that Pirah would be up for it literally as well given half an incentive. 

Dean and Castiel got married three years after they had met the first time, during the relatively tourist-free off-season in the very late autumn, before the winter-rush started, the lake sparkling blue as always but now covered in morning mist and surrounded by a wild palette of yellows, oranges and reds as the forests on the surrounding mountains changed colour. 

Dean and Cas did their best to keep the ceremony small and under wraps. They knew the tourist board would love to make it into a big thing, but this they wanted just for themselves, and since the director of the tourist board was fully in favour of not televising anything at all, they even succeeded. Mostly. 

They told Sam and Jess, so Sam could be Dean’s best man, and Castiel’s siblings flew in. Castiel refused to pick any one of them as best man or woman, so the role was assigned via a dramatic round of rock paper scissors lizard Spock. Given what Cas had told him, Dean had expected Anna to win, but Gabriel proved to be just as much of a nerd and much better at tricking his opponent into picking what he wanted them to pick. Gabriel and Pirah got on like a house on fire, so much so that even Dean felt scared about their impending stag-do.

They told the rest of Dean’s small family, Bobby and Ellen and Jo, and naturally also Charlie and Dorothy, which lead to inviting Hans as well,  and Gabe told the entire town when he commandeered the bar as well as the small tourist train for their stag night. 

In the end, the wedding was a town party and the lake was crowded with every floatable vessel imaginable since they wouldn’t have all fit onto the island, let alone the temple. 

Pirah herself did the honours. (Another reason the tourist board, if not its director, would have loved to televise the entire thing.)

There was of course a happy ending, for how could there not be, if the couple had a goddess at their side, watching over them.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> Come say hello to me on [Tumblr](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com) or [Pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/deli) :)
> 
> Also, please head over to [almaasi's post](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/179158313237/heres-all-the-art-i-made-for-delicious-ironys) and shower her with all the cookies and kudos and love for her AMAZING art! <3
> 
> Here's also the [masterpost on Tumblr](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/179162694955/title-the-magic-of-things-big-and-small-author) ^^


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